I'll Be Back
by ItalianPrincess92
Summary: Professor Layton is transferred to Harvard University and Luke soon uncovers the sinister reason why. Story is better than the summary. Rated T because I'm paranoid. Mild language, brief violence, and some romance.
1. Intuition

**A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic...EVER!**

**I love Professor Layton and was so happy when I found a fanfic section!**

**This story is set in London 1933. Flora is 13 and Luke is 12, but they are only 6 months apart.**

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters.**

* * *

><p>"Professor, did you hear that?" Luke asked.<p>

"Hear what?" Professor Layton said.

_Meow._

"That." Luke replied, getting on his hands and knees.

"She's under here for sure, but I just can't see anything! May I have the torch please?"

"Certainly," Layton responded, switching it on before handing it to his apprentice.

Luke pointed the flashlight at the underside of the deck, the beam of light piercing through the darkness.

"Here kitty," he called.

Suddenly the light landed on a ball of white fluff. The kitten turned towards Luke. Her ears flattened and her eyes widened. Her mouth opened and she let out the tiniest _hiss_.

Luke chuckled.

"You're a right scary one, aren't you? Come on, come here."

The kitten didn't budge. She sniffed the air as if to say, _Ha, who do you think you're talking to?_

Luke narrowed his eyes.

"Cheeky brat," he muttered.

"Now Luke, a true gentleman never resorts to name calling." Layton reminded him gently.

"Sorry Professor," Luke, said, embarrassed.

Just then, Flora came around the corner, her ponytail bouncing up and down as she walked.

"Any luck?" she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

"She's under here, but she won't come out," Luke reported, as he brushed off his trousers.

Flora seemed relieved.

"I think I have something that she will like. Here."

Flora handed Luke a small ball of yarn.

"Just dangle it it front of the opening. She'll come out in no time," Flora instructed.

"Very well," Luke sighed, before returning to his crouched position.

Flora bent down next to him, her hair tickling his ear. He shivered.

"Come Crumpet," he called, shaking the ball of yarn. He unraveled some yarn off it's coil, and rolled the rest into the hole. After a moment he felt a small tug. He pulled on the string and out came the ball of yarn, with Crumpet attached.

Flora carefully unhooked her cat's claws before scooping her up.

"Thank you Luke; Professor," she smiled.

She cuddled Crumpet and then motioned her hand towards the house.

"Come you two, I made tea and biscuits."

Luke and Layton exchanged nervous glances. Cooking wasn't exactly Flora's strong suit.

Once inside, Flora poured cups of steaming Earl Grey tea for everyone, accompanied by ginger biscuits. Luke stared at the biscuits for a moment. He picked one off of the plate slowly, as if it might explode. He brought it to his mouth and took a small bite. He was surprised. Shocked, even. It wasn't bad. It was a little dry and the ginger slightly overpowering, but still, pretty good.

"So?" Flora grinned. "How do you like them?"

"They are wonderful, Flora," Layton replied.

Luke nodded in agreement.

Flora took a seat beside Luke and added some milk to her teacup.

"How is your class going at University, Professor?" Luke inquired.

"It's going alright, I suppose," Layton answered thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, with the current status of the economy, less students are applying."

In the distance, Big Ben chimed. _Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. _

Luke dabbed his mouth with a napkin and finished off his tea.

"I best be going, Professor. Mum and Dad will be waiting."

"Of course. Do be careful," Layton said, his expression softening.

Luke returned a sympathetic smile. "I will," he promised.

"Thank you again, Luke," Flora smiled, hugging him.

Luke wondered if she could feel how fast his heartbeat was or how warm his cheeks were getting. He looked over at the Professor. Layton smiled. He knew that Luke was very fond of Flora.

Flora picked Crumpet off the floor.

"Crumpet says 'thank you' as well."

Luke patted her head, and she nuzzled his palm.

"It was my pleasure."

He then turned towards the hallway, where a small portrait hung of the professor and Claire.

He wished he could've met her.

Flora opened the door, and she and the Professor stood side-by-side, waving good-bye to their friend.

Luke turned left at the end of the street and continued straight. He stopped at the threshold of Westminster Bridge and sighed. Poor Professor. He knew it hurt his friend to cross the bridge ever since what had happened. Unfortunately, that was the only way to get to Gressenheller. As Luke continued his walk over Westminster Bridge, he suddenly froze in his tracks. He squinted. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He kept walking until he reached the end of the bridge. St. Stephens Tower was only a stone's throw away now, but there was no mistaking what he saw. Or didn't see, for that matter. Bridge Street, usually a bustling hub of activity, now completely deserted. Luke could feel his stomach do a flip-flop. He looked around, and despite the fact that no one was there, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. He cleared his throat.

"Hello?" he called out, sounding less confident than he wanted.

No answer.

The sun slipped lower into the horizon, turning the sky from pale orange to purple. A few moments later, the lampposts flickered on.

The wind picked up a bit, nipping at Luke's ankles.

_Don't be silly, Luke,_ he said to himself, adjusting his cap. _Nobody is watch-_

Suddenly, Luke heard a sound-the rustle of leaves.

He spun around and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. The dark shadowy figure quickly scurried out of sight, but Luke didn't waste another second. He ran. His satchel repeatedly smacked into his ribs with every step, but he didn't care. He dashed past Westminster Abbey, a sight he would usually stop at and admire for it's incredible architecture. Finally, he recognized his street and when he saw his red-roofed house, he burst through the door, and slammed it behind him.

His head ached and there was a burning sensation in his chest.

"Luke? Is that you?" his mother said from the kitchen.

Luke didn't answer. He walked to his room and shut the door.

_Someone was watching me. But who? Why?_

Luke didn't know the answers to those questions, but he was determined to find out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whoo! First chapter done! I hope you all liked it! ****Please R&R!**

**Also a few things:**

**Don't hate me, but in this story, PLatDB and PLatUF never happened! Sorry!**

**Claire did exist...at some point...**

**I'm from the US, but I am going to try to use 'Britspeak' as best as I can to make the story as realistic as possible.**


	2. Taking Chances

**A/N: Second chapter! Whoo!**

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters.**

* * *

><p>The Laytonmobile rumbled along the street, as the Professor made his way to Gressenheller University.<p>

Red and gold leaves blanketed the road like an ornate carpet, and he could hear them crunching under his wheels as he drove. He crossed over Westminster Bridge, and just like they always did, all of the horrible memories of that day came rushing back.

"_Are you Hershel Layton?" the young police officer asked him._

"_Yes. How may I help you?"_

"_Sir, would you mind if I came in for a moment?"_

Layton sighed. Deep down, he knew he couldn't have done anything, but it was no comfort. In his eyes, he had failed to protect her.

When he arrived at the university, he parked in his reserved place and got out, ready to start a new day.

He climbed the majestic marble steps and walked in. Nearby, a group of young ladies idly chatted away but stopped momentarily when they saw him.

"Good morning, Professor!" they said simultaneously.

Layton came over to them and tipped his hat.

"Good morning, ladies. How are you doing today? May I ask what you are reading?"

"_Pride and Prejudice_," they answered in unison, turning their books over so he could see the cover.

"Jane Austen. A fine choice," he smiled.

Emily Hanover, one of the shyest yet smartest students he had ever had in his class spoke up. "Professor, I finished that report on Mary Leakey."

This didn't surprise the professor. Emily was front-and-center in every class. Taking notes and absorbing every word.

"Splendid. I look forward to reading it. Now ladies, I do apologize, but I must run. Have a wonderful day."

"Bye Professor!" Emily said cheerfully.

As he turned the corner, he heard one of the other girls scoff. "Showoff."

Layton unlocked his office door and was about to turn the handle when he heard a noise come from inside. A sneeze, to be exact.

_What's this?_

He opened the door and there, standing over his desk, was a young blonde woman, rifling through his papers.

Layton, quite unsure of what to say, cleared his throat.

The mystery guest whirled around, nearly knocking some books onto the floor in the process.

Layton recognized her right away, which to be honest, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Miss Whitlock, what are you doing in my office?"

Sarah Whitlock, a 19-year-old promising archaeology student, looked back innocently at her professor.

"Professor! I'm so glad to see you! I was just tidying up your office, like you asked."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember?"

"No...," he answered slowly.

"The other day when you said you wished your office was more organized?"

Layton finally understood.

"I appreciate the gesture, Miss Whitlock, but that's not what I meant. This is trespassing."

"No it's not!" she cried defensively.

"Yes it is. I think it's best you leave now. Please."

"I was just trying to help!" Sarah snatched her bag from the ground, and without another word she stormed out, leaving the Professor stunned.

Layton shut the door behind her and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

He sat at his desk, trying to see if anything was misplaced.

Everything seemed to be in order... except one thing. A framed photo of Claire that he kept on his desk was now face-down. He returned it to it's upright position, and noticed that a small blue envelope had been hidden underneath.

He picked it up. It had been opened.

Just then, there was a small knock at the door and he heard it creak open.

"Professor?" a voice said.

It was Sarah.

Layton tossed the note into the first drawer.

"Miss Whitlock, now is not really a good time."

"Are you angry with me?" She sounded timid and small, very unlike what he had just witnessed a few minutes before.

"Come in, Miss Whitlock."

He heard soft footsteps behind him, and he turned his chair to face her.

"I am going to be honest with you, Miss Whitlock. I'm disappointed. I expect better of my students."

Sarah sniffled.

Layton stood up. "You are a very bright young lady, which is why I know you know that what you did was wrong."

Sarah looked up at him. "You think I'm bright?"

"I know you are."

Sarah's cheeks turned a light pink. "I am sorry, for being in here without your permission," she said softly. "It was a foolish thing to do. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't?"

Sarah gave a grateful smile.

"I should be going. Emily said she wanted to talk to me."

"Have a good day," he said.

"You too, sir."

Once she was gone, Layton plucked the note from his drawer and scanned it.

_Professor-_

_When the time is convenient, please come see me in my office._

_Vice-Chancellor Taylor_

Layton checked his pocket watch.

Half past eight.

Lessons were to begin shortly, and with his classroom all the way at the other end of the school, Layton decided to pay the vice-chancellor a visit later.

He tucked the note into his pocket, and after doing another overview of his office, he set off down the long corridors to educate young minds in the place he loved most.

It was nearing three o' clock when the professor knocked on Vice-Chancellor David Taylor's door.

"Come in," he said from the other side.

Layton entered and looked around. He had only been inside this room twice since he started teaching at the university, and it seemed as if nothing much had changed.

A Union Jack hung on a pole and books lined an entire wall behind the Vice-Chancellor.

"Ah, Professor Layton, such a pleasure to see you again," he grinned. "Please, have a seat."

A soft breeze blew in through the window, slightly ruffling the flag.

"Would you care for some tea?" The Vice-Chancellor asked.

"No, thank you," Layton declined politely.

"How have you been, Professor? How is your daughter?" He stirred some milk into his cup.

"Wonderful, thank you. How is your family?"

The Vice-Chancellor took a small sip.

"They are well, thank you. My little boy Henry has started his first form at City of London, and my daughter Charlotte has begun her second year at St. Hugh's. She is studying French history. Amelia and I are very proud of them both."

"I cannot believe that she is at university. I remember when I first started here, she was only six years old," the Professor said.

"'Tis true what they say: Time flies," the Vice-Chancellor noted.

He then cleared his throat.

"Now Professor, seeing as you are here, I assume you got my letter. I have something important I need to discuss."

The Vice-Chancellor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared down at a piece of paper in his hands.

"As you know, the worldwide economy has taken quite a hit in the past four years. We here in London are fortunate as to not have been hurt as badly. However, our American friends are not as lucky. Unemployment has reached an alarming level, and people are being evicted from their homes faster than the banks can foreclose them."

He peered at Layton over the rim of his glasses.

"Sadly, many primary and secondary schools have been forced to close due to the dramatic loss of instuctors, and many people are worried that universities may be next."

Layton sat still, listening intently.

"The president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt has requested foreign aid in the form of volunteer teachers. Professors from France, Italy and Australia have been assigned to schools like Yale, Princeton and Columbia, and now, it's our turn."

He handed Layton the paper he was holding.

"Harvard University has called upon Gressenheller, asking us to send a list of possible candidates and Professor, after reviewing multiple prospects, they have chosen you."

Was he saying what the Professor thought he was saying?

"Harvard wants me to come and teach?" Layton asked.

"Yes."

Layton couldn't believe it. His mind was jumbled, which didn't happen often.

"When am I to start?"

"It's a bit short notice, but there is a ship leaving for the United States in nine days."

"Oh."

"I do apologize for the inconvenienece. Harvard took some time getting back to us on their decision, leaving us with no time to give you proper time to prepare."

Layton looked out the window. The sun was starting to set.

"Professor, in the event that you are unable to go, Harvard has selected Professor Burke in your place. You must know, however, that that letter I gave you is from the dean himself. In it, he expresses how honored he would be to have someone of your caliber at his school."

How could the Professor say no? It would go against everything he believed about helping someone in need. He was a true gentleman after all, wasn't he?

"So, Professor, what do you say? Shall I tell Harvard who their new instructor will be?"

The Professor nodded. "Yes."

The Vice-Chancellor clapped his hands together. "Fantastic. Thank you Professor. Harvard is going to be so thankful."

The two men shook hands and said goodbye.

A few minutes after the Professor had gone, the Vice-Chancellor picked up his phone and dialed.

"Well?" a voice answered.

The Vice-Chancellor pressed his tongue to his teeth before responding.

"It's done."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hi! I hope you all liked this chapter. Please R&R!**

**Happy 4TH!**


	3. What About Now

**A/N: I'm back... lol **

**You all prob want to bite my head off.. lol **

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters.**

Luke sat still with his back pressed firmly against the frigid wall of the boys bathroom, clutching his left wrist.

Tears in his eyes, he winced with pain as he removed his right hand.

His wrist was starting to color with a myriad of black, blue and purple bruises and had already swollen to twice the normal size.

Any contact to or movement of the afflicted area sent a shocking pain shooting up his arm and down to his fingers, making them feel like they were on fire.

His muscles twitched involuntarily and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out the pain, at least for a moment.

Eventually, he reopened his eyes and glanced up.

The wall clock that hung over the sink read 4:10, and he knew that Flora would be waiting and probably start to worry.

Taking a breath, he slowly got to his feet, his injured hand hanging limply by his side.

-o-

Flora sat on the concrete steps outside the City of London School for Girls, idly tapping her foot against the cement

Dark clouds were rolling in, replacing the setting sun, and she knew that meant only one thing.

She checked her watch.

"Where is he?" she wondered aloud.

Luke was never this late, and something was telling her that something wasn't right.

Grabbing her navy blue shoulder bag, Flora jumped up and hurried down the steps and across the lawn.

She was nearly halfway to the street when she finally spotted Luke coming her way.

Relieved, she slowed her pace and they quickly caught up to each other.

-o-

By this time, Luke had pulled the sleeve of his blazer as far down as he could over his wrist, not wanting Flora to see.

He knew it was a long shot, as Flora had eyes like a hawk, but it was worth a try.

He straightened his tie, and tried his best to act normal.

"Sorry I'm late," he said.

The sky rumbled with thunder.

"It's alright," Flora answered with a smile. "I was just concerned. What happened?"

Luke froze, unsure of what to say. He inwardly cursed at himself for not coming up with a good excuse.

He couldn't tell her the real reason. It was humiliating.

"I, um, had to speak to one of my professors, and he kept me waiting," Luke replied, looking down.

"Oh," was all Flora could say. She studied Luke for a moment.

Something was off, but she didn't know what.

He was extremely quiet and reserved, very unlike his usual self.

However, he didn't seem up for talking so she decided to ignore it.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, almost too eagerly and they set off towards the Professor's house.

"Do you know what I think about every time we go over Blackfriars?" Flora asked after a few minutes of silence, attempting to lift Luke's spirits.

"What?"

"My very first day of school. I was so nervous... but, you made me feel so much better. Do you remember?"

"_Professor, I don't want to go. Don't make me go. Please," Flora begged._

_Layton glanced at Luke. _

"_Now, Flora, darling, I know you're anxious," he said, "but school is nothing to be afraid of. Right, Luke?"_

_Luke smiled. "Right."_

"_Why can't I just go to university with you, Professor?" She whimpered. A single tear slid down her cheek. _

_Luke reached up and wiped it away. _

"_Don't cry, Flora. I was really scared on my first day, too. I thought nobody would talk to me and I was going to be all alone, but I made lots of friends. You will too. I promise." _

"_How do you know?" _

_He took her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. _

"_Because... a gentleman never breaks his promise."_

"That was the day when I knew," Flora said.

"Knew what?"

"That I had found my best friend."

Luke opened his mouth to speak when a crack of thunder interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up. "Oh, no."

Flora followed his gaze.

The pair shared a quick glance, and within seconds they were running. Unfortunately, they didn't get far before sheets of water came down, drenching them. They darted between taxis and around pedestrians who were walking as if it were a beautiful sunny day. Of course, they had umbrellas.

The rain was blinding, so much so that that neither Luke nor Flora could see more than two feet in front of them. Luke's hat was completely saturated and no matter what he did, it wouldn't stay put. Frustrated, he yanked it off and shoved it in his bag. However, for the split second that he wasn't looking where he was going, he collided with something, landing square on his back.

Even worse, he heard his wrist crack.

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

Luke opened his eyes and saw a young woman standing over him, scowling.

Her icy blue eyes pierced through him and he got a sick feeling in his stomach.

"Luke! Are you okay?" Flora took his arm, helping him to his feet.

He felt dizzy, and it was few seconds before the pavement lay straight.

"I'm so sorry, miss. I-I didn't see you."

"Obviously," she snapped. "Why don't you mind where you're going next time?" She smoothed down her dress, and walked off in a huff, her high heels clicking against the concrete.

Flora muttered something less than ladylike under her breath, her jade eyes blazed with anger.

She turned back to Luke and gasped.

"Luke...," she whispered.

His sleeve had retracted and had exposed his wounded arm.

Realizing this, Luke tried to cover it again, but it was in vain.

Pulling him into an empty telephone booth, out of the rain, Flora lifted his sleeve and gently examined his wrist.

Luke let out a small hiss as the burning sensation returned, wreaking havoc on his nerves.

"How did this happen?" she asked, almost demanding.

"I fell," he answered automatically, surprised at how fast the words had escaped his mouth.

Flora squinted at him, trying to read his expression.

She ran her finger over the bruise. It was dark and spread out.

"Why didn't you go to the nurse?"

"It-," Luke bit his lip and tried to pry Flora's hand away, but it was no use. She didn't let go. "It wasn't that bad... It's not a big deal, really."

"It is, Luke!" she persisted. "It's terribly swollen. It's probably broken or something. Come on, we have to get home. The Professor will know what to do."

She pulled his sleeve back down and exited the booth, Luke trailing behind.

The rest of the walk home was filled with silence, aside from the rain, which had now subsided into a light drizzle.

As they climbed the steps to the Professor's house, Luke reached into his bag and pulled out his still-soaked cap.

"Now that I think about it, it probably wasn't a such good idea to put this wet thing in with the rest of my stuff," he said sheepishly. "My notebooks are likely all ruined."

"Don't worry, we can always dry them by the fireplace," Flora reassured him.

Luke stared skeptically at the dripping blue fabric in his hand, before tucking it under his arm.

He turned the handle of the front door and opened it, letting Flora go ahead of him.

("Ladies first!")

Finally inside, Luke was relieved to see, or rather feel the sensation in his fingers returning, which had been chilled numb by the rain.

He made his way into the parlor and set his bag down. He retrieved his books and positioned them carefully in front of the crackling flames. (Which was fairly difficult to do with essentially only one arm).

Flora, who'd gone to her room, suddenly appeared beside him.

She had changed into dry clothes and had her hair pulled up into a bun.

She then went behind him and draped a towel over Luke's shoulders.

He wordlessly thanked her with a nod and smile, grateful for the extra warmth.

After a few moments of warming by the fire, Flora suddenly looked around the room, a look of concern on her face.

"Luke...," she said slowly, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly, "where's the Professor?"

"What?"

"The Professor," she repeated. "We haven't seen him since we came home."

"His car was in the drive though, right?" Luke said.

He made his way over to the front door and peered out.

Sure enough, the Professor's signature red 'Laytonmobile' was parked right there.

Luke closed the door and pulled the towel tighter around him.

He turned around to face his friend.

"You didn't see him when you went upstairs?" he asked.

Flora silently shook her head, and Luke could tell she was beginning to panic.

"It's okay, Flora," he told her. "I'll go check upstairs and you check down here."

Luke then climbed the stairs and started knocking on all the doors.

"Professor?"

He put his ear against the Professor's bedroom door, but didn't hear anything.

_Where could he be?_

Luke sighed.

There were only five rooms upstairs, and his mentor wasn't in any of them.

He started back downstairs and found Flora waiting for him.

"I can't find him," she whispered, her voice thin and strangled. "He wasn't in the kitchen, or his office or the library!"

Luke didn't want to say anything, but he himself was starting to worry.

"Come on," he said, taking her by the hand.

They walked down the hallway and entered the kitchen.

"I already looked in here!" Flora cried.

"I know. I'm calling the police," he replied.

Flora sank into a chair, beside herself.

Luke lifted the earpiece of the telephone off of the mount, ready to dial, when he got an odd feeling and looked to his right.

He couldn't believe it.

Outside, only twenty yards away, sitting on the bench by the garden, was the Professor.

"Flora!" he practically shouted.

Luke slammed the telephone down, threw open the back door and ran outside, Flora on his heels.

"Professor!"

Flora ran ahead of Luke and he saw her nearly crush the Professor with a hug.

He finally caught up with them, out of breath.

Flora was in tears and he could only make out every fourth word.

"Thought...abducted...find...scared..."

The Professor was rubbing her back gently, trying to soothe her.

"Professor, we were so worried," Luke told him.

"I'm so sorry, my boy," he replied. "I only intended to come out here for a few minutes, but I became distracted, I suppose."

It was then that Luke noticed that the Professor was holding a paper in his other hand.

He saw the words, _honoured to have you _and _thank you for your consideration_, along with an official-looking seal with the Latin phrase, _Veritas _written across.

"Professor, what is that?"

Layton hesitated, but knew he had no choice.

"It's something very important that I have to discuss with you two."

Flora had stopped crying, but was still leaning against the Professor.

Luke was suddenly very uneasy.

_What's going on?_

The Professor handed Luke the paper.

He scanned it quickly, and he paled.

_This can't be right._

"Y-you're _leaving_?" he asked, incredulous.

Flora suddenly shot up straight.

"What is he talking about, Professor? Where are you going?"

Her voice was rising, and it was possible that she would burst into tears again.

"Please, let me explain," Layton said.

Luke could feel his nostrils tremble. Not good.

"I was called into the Vice-Chancellor's office today for something of great importance," he started. "As you know, the Depression has caused immense negative effects on the economy, both here in England and overseas. London is very lucky to not have experienced the same hardships as other places, and that's why I received this letter. The United States is going through a very difficult time, and numerous people have lost their jobs, many of them teachers."

He stopped speaking for a moment to look at Luke and Flora.

They were quiet, Flora keeping her focus on the grass, and Luke staring off into the distance.

"So," he continued, "in an effort to ensure that universities stay open, the President, Franklin Roosevelt has asked professors and teachers from other nations to come as volunteers and teach until the economy starts to recover."

Luke couldn't believe his ears.

"Why you, though? There are other professors," he blurted out. He regretted it instantly, but he couldn't take it back now.

"Now, Luke, I know it's difficult," the Professor said gently, "but isn't it the duty of every gentleman to assist those in need?"

He was right, of course, but Luke seemed to be at odds with his personal beliefs at the moment.

"I have to go," he said suddenly. He didn't want to listen anymore, and he had to leave.

He stood up and started to walk away when he heard Flora behind him.

"Luke, wait. Please."

His nose trembled again.

Flora was now by his side with her hand resting on his wrist.

"Don't go, Luke. It'll be okay. Really."

Luke merely shook his head.

"I have to go, Flora. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you soon."

With that, he walked away from his friends and headed for home, as the rain started to fall once more.

**Hey all. So, I hope you all liked this. I legit changed this chap like 30 times... :p**

**I hope you all liked it. Please RnR**


	4. Going Under

**A/N: Fourth chapter! Whoo!**

**Thanks to MoniCullenVolturi for the review AND for her help with this chapter!**

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters.**

Flora stared down at her bowl of oatmeal, absentmindedly stirring around the contents without actually taking any bites.

She was alone in the kitchen; the Professor in his office, and Luke, unsurprisingly, nowhere in sight.

Flora yawned, her eyelids starting to droop.

In light of the news of the previous day, Flora hadn't gotten much sleep.

After Luke had gone, the Professor had tried his best to explain the situation to her and why it was so important that they go.

She told him she understood, and that she was okay with it, but now she wasn't so sure.

Going to America would be a big change, especially what she had gone through by leaving St. Mystere after being locked in a tower for most of her life.

Flora remembered all too clearly the severe anxiety she experienced that followed her departure, and the thought of reliving the same emotions was terrifying.

Then, of course, as if her apprehension about the move wasn't enough, Flora couldn't help stop thinking about Luke.

Seeing him walk away so abruptly absolutely broke her heart, as she knew that he was more upset than he had let on—not that she could blame him, of course.

The Professor was Luke's mentor, teacher and most importantly, his best friend.

Luke spent nearly all his time with him, and now he wouldn't be there.

What was he going to do now?

Her mind racing, she dropped her spoon and left the kitchen.

Down the hall, she found the room she was looking for and slowly pushed open the French doors.

"Professor?"

Layton was at his desk, writing.

He looked up at her.

"Yes, dear?"

She closed the doors behind her.

"May I ask you something?"

The Professor smiled.

"Of course. Come sit," he said.

Flora strode across the room and settled into a red leather sofa embellished with gold studs along the armrest.

"Are you alright?" Layton asked.

Flora traced the seam on the couch for a few moments before answering.

She looked at the Professor.

"Do you think Luke is going to stay mad?"

He set his pen down and leaned back in his seat.

"I don't believe so. Not for very long, anyway. I understand his reaction, though. The announcement was quite a shock... for all of us. Wouldn't you say?"

Flora nodded, continuing to run her finger along the stitching.

The Professor then picked up the book that he was writing in and handed it to Flora. It was brown leather, with hand sewn stitching.

"What's this?"

She flipped it open, revealing pages and pages of words, numbers, and pictures.

"Puzzles?" she asked tentatively, waiting for confirmation.

The Professor grinned. "Mm-hm. It's for Luke. Just a way to keep him busy so he won't feel so lonely whilst we're gone."

Flora scanned the pages, and she felt a little better.

Luke was going to have a grand time with these puzzles.

They were very difficult, and she knew that they were the kind only the Professor's "number one apprentice" could solve.

"These are wonderful, Professor," she said, handing him the book, "Luke is going to love it."

"Thank you, darling," he replied.

After a minute, Flora stood up.

"I suppose I should get ready. Luke will probably be here soon."

"Of course," Layton said. "He's probably on his way right now."

-o-

Except that he wasn't.

Luke was still in bed, curled up with the blankets over his head.

To be honest, he didn't remember most of the day before, only that it was one of the worst days he'd ever had.

He tried to block it out, pretend that maybe he'd imagined it.

That worked... for a little while.

Eventually though, reality would start to seep back into his brain, and he had to accept it: His two very best friends were moving three thousand miles away, and there was nothing he could do about it.

As soon as he'd gotten home, he'd went straight to bed, and from then, things had gone downhill.

Sleep was sporadic and everytime he'd think he would get to rest, his mind wouldn't allow it.

It was morning now, and his wrist, along with his head was throbbing, and his whole body felt weak and limp.

He could hear his mother calling him downstairs for breakfast, but just like the last two times, he ignored it.

He didn't want to move. He couldn't.

Exhaustion clouded his mind, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

He closed his eyes, about to finally fall asleep, when a hot wave of nausea suddenly washed over him as his stomach lurched.

He threw his covers off and clamped a hand over his mouth.

He was going to vomit.

Afraid he would throw up right there, he scrambled out of bed and almost dropped to the floor, his legs shaky, unable to support him.

He steadied himself and ran as quickly as he could.

He located the bathroom just in time and fell to his knees in front of the toilet, just as the contents of his stomach emptied into the bowl.

Coughing, he could feel the bile searing his esophagus and throat, and his eyes burning with tears.

Faintly, Luke could hear his mother calling his name, presumably wondering what all that noise was.

Unable to respond, he leaned over and felt his frame shudder as he heaved again.

After a few minutes, Luke sat back from the toilet, taking a few deep breaths.

His nausea had finally subsided, and from the hallway, he could hear footsteps.

"Luke!"

Brenda Triton gasped and knelt down next to her son.

She had never seen him like this.

His skin was pale and his hands were ice cold.

She grabbed a tissue and dabbed his eyes and mouth.

"Darling, what happened?"

Luke just shook his head, his throat too sore to give any sort of verbal reply.

Brenda pressed the back of her hand to his cheek.

"Luke, you're burning up. Come on, back to bed."

She helped him up and led him back to his room.

A few minutes later, Luke was under the covers again, a damp cloth both on his forehead and injured wrist.

Brenda was beside him, dipping another cloth into a basin of cold water.

"Now, sweetheart, did you wake up feeling sick?" she asked him.

Luke blinked.

"They're leaving," he said, as if he hadn't even heard her question.

"What?"

Luke turned over on his side to face his mother, the washcloth slipping off his head.

"They're leaving-the Professor... and Flora. To America."

Brenda sighed sadly and wrung out the washcloth.

"I know. The Professor called here last night, after you'd gone to bed."

This surprised Luke.

"He did? What did he say?"

She wiped his cheeks with the towel.

"He wanted to make sure you were alright. Said you were quite upset."

"He wasn't angry with me?"

Brenda looked shocked.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe he'd think I was selfish. Being asked to teach at Harvard is a big deal and I wasn't happy for him. The way I acted was not that of a gentleman."

"Oh, my love," Brenda said softly, "trust me, the Professor understands. He does not think that at all."

Luke rolled over again, so that he was lying on his back.

Brenda got up from her seat.

"Now you, my dear, must get some rest. Understand?"

Bending down, she kissed his nose and carefully tucked the blankets underneath him.

She then collected the wet cloths and the bowl of water and left the room.

Luke closed his eyes, and with every fiber of his being begging for sleep, he quickly gave in, and drifted off into a peaceful dreamless slumber.

**I hope you all liked it! Please R&R!**


	5. These Words

**A/N: Fifth chapter! Whoo!**

**Thanks to clivefangal and DandelionOak for their reviews!**

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters**

_Rrriinngg!_

Busily trying to fit her school supplies inside her satchel in a neat and orderly fashion, Flora became distracted for a moment as the shrill cry of the telephone sounded from the kitchen.

She stopped what she was doing for a moment to listen, and heard the Professor answer the call.

Flora then turned her focus back to her seemingly impossible task at hand: Organizing.

Glaring at the disheveled slew of papers and notebooks with contempt, she groaned.

Her schoolbag was too small and she had simply too much stuff.

Exasperated, she gave up and started shoving her paraphernalia in whichever way it would fit, no longer concerned with the appearance.

Once everything was tucked away, and the bag snapped shut, Flora stood up and scurried downstairs.

-o-

Professor Layton was at kitchen sink, staring out the window, lost in thought.

It seemed like everything that had happened had finally registered, and now, it had all come crashing down.

His mind was inundated with facts, figures, plans and questions, and the realization of what he had agreed to left him wondering if he had made the right choice.

The phone rang, jarring him out of his thoughts, and to be honest, he was quite thankful for the distraction.

"Hello?"

"Hershel, it's Brenda."

Layton felt his veins turn to ice.

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, it's just Luke. He woke up feeling terribly sick this morning. So, he won't be coming to school today."

"My goodness," the Professor said quietly.

"He's resting now, so I think he should recover soon," Brenda told him.

"Of course," Layton replied.

"Should I let Flora know?" Brenda asked.

"No, it's okay, I'll tell her. Yes. Alright, well, make sure you tell Luke that we hope he feels better soon. Thank you for calling, Brenda. Goodbye."

The Professor hung up the phone and turned around, only to see Flora standing there.

"Good morning, Professor," she said cheerily. "Who was that?"

She set her bag on the chair before taking a seat.

"That was Mrs. Triton. Luke is not feeling well and won't be able to go to school today."

Layton noticed her expression change from curiosity to concern.

"Do you think it's because of what's going on?"

The Professor hesitated. He had suspected that that was the reason, but did not want to tell Flora, knowing that she would worry.

"I'm not sure, darling. She didn't say."

-o-

Flora found herself seated next to her adoptive father as the Laytonmobile cruised down Cornwall Lane.

The Professor hadn't been comfortable with Flora walking to school by herself, so he had decided to drive her.

For most of the ride, Flora remained quiet; preoccupied with her thoughts.

Layton glanced over at Flora.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?"

Flora thought for a moment.

"I was just thinking about how different America is going to be. Have you ever been there?"

"I have," he replied with a smile.

Flora seemed to perk up a bit at this.

"Really? What was it like?"

"It was lovely. I was about sixteen and visited the Museum of Natural History with Dr. Schrader in New York City. In fact, that's where I discovered my interest for archaeology."

"That's incredible. Would you take me there, Professor?" Flora asked.

Layton nodded.

"Of course," he replied, "maybe you'll find what you want to do there, too."

Flora smiled, because for the first time, she was actually looking forward to America.

Turning the corner, Professor Layton slowed to a stop in front of the City of London School for Girls.

"Thank you for driving me, Professor."

Flora stepped out of the car and started toward the building.

"I'll pick you up at four o' clock, okay?"

She looked back and waved, before disappearing through the front doors.

-o-

The Professor had arrived early at Gressenheller, to ensure that he had enough time to compose his thoughts about how to inform the students of his transfer.

At his desk, Layton tapped his fingers against the polished wood, trying to find the right words.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

The clock's relentless ticking reminded the Professor that the students would soon be there.

Anxious, he rose to his feet and began to write the daily assignment on the blackboard.

It was now nine o' clock, and the students were filing in, quietly taking their seats.

Setting the chalk down, Layton turned to face the class.

"Good morning, students."

"Good morning, Professor," they replied in unison.

The Professor crossed the room, standing in front of his desk.

"Before we begin our lesson today, I have an announcement to make. Yesterday, Vice-Chancellor Taylor told me that numerous universities in the United States were forced to lay off professors due to the economy. Afraid that they may have to close down, the universities have requested the help of professors from other countries to volunteer their services. My name, along with others from Gressenheller were submitted, and I was selected to teach at Harvard University."

A hush fell over the classroom, a look of disbelief on everyone's face.

From the back row, a boy named Andrew White shot up from his chair.

"Professor! You're leaving us? School just started!"

A few of the other students chimed in, voicing the same sentiments.

Layton held up his hand, in an attempt to quiet the room.

"Please settle down. I know this comes as a surprise, but I believe that it is important that I fulfill this obligation. Professor Cooper will be taking my place whilst I'm gone, and I expect you to give him the same respect and cooperation that you have shown me."

The class was silent as the Professor swiftly returned to the board.

"Now, to begin our lesson..."

-o-

It was now lunchtime, and Flora was sitting beneath a shady oak tree, having lunch with two of her closest friends, Eva and Bridget.

Eva, a kindhearted girl with a bubbly personality, had befriended Flora soon after she arrived at City of London, and Flora knew that she could trust her with anything.

Reserved and soft-spoken, it had taken Bridget a bit more time to warm up, but now the two were inseparable.

Flora finished her cucumber sandwich and dusted the crumbs from her skirt.

"I have something very exciting to tell you both," she grinned.

"You know, I noticed you were acting a bit differently today," Eva said, her honey-colored curls gleaming in the sunlight. "What is it?"

"I'm moving to America. The Professor is being transferred to Harvard University."

Bridget's mouth fell open.

"What?"

"I was shocked, too, at first," Flora said.

Her two friends exchanged stunned looks.

"Why is the Professor being transferred?" Bridget tried again.

"Because of the Depression. Many teachers lost their jobs because the universities were unable to pay them. So now, they're asking for volunteers to fill in."

"How long will you be gone for?" Bridget inquired.

"Well... the Professor doesn't know yet," Flora admitted. "It depends on when things get better in America."

"Oh," Eva said, looking away.

"We're going to miss you, Fleur," Bridget said sadly, using the nickname that she and Eva had come up with for Flora.

Just then, the school bell rang, and the girls promptly got to their feet.

Flora put her arms around their shoulders.

"I'm going to miss you too, but I'll write to you every day," she reassured them.

"Promise?" Bridget asked, her hazel eyes brimming with tears.

"Promise."

-o-

Walking up the steps to Gressenheller, Flora clung tightly to the Professor. She had visited the university only once before, and oddly enough, it was much bigger than she remembered.

Heading through the front entrance, Flora's eyes lit up at the sheer grandeur of the main foyer.

Vaulted ceilings were decorated with intricate paintings that reminded her of the Sistine Chapel.

A sweeping mahogany staircase, located in the center of the room, led to the second floor, where some of the classrooms were.

Multiple stained-glass windows sparkled, letting in the glow of the fading sun.

Following the Professor, Flora moved down the hallway, admiring the impressive portraits that hung neatly on the wall.

Layton unlocked his office door and ushered her in.

Flora surveyed the room, and giggled to herself. With the crammed bookcase, shelves crowded with various artifacts and the cluttered desk, the Professor's office was just like the one he had at home.

"Professor, would you like me to help you pack?"

"I would appreciate that very much, darling. Thank you."

And so, they got to work.

Flora was in charge of the books; the Professor responsible for everything else.

They were nearly finished when there was a knock at the door.

_Who could that be? _Layton wondered.

Placing the last relic in the box, he hurried towards the door.

Turning the knob, he pulled it open, and practically jumped back in surprise.

"Miss Whitlock, it's late. What are you doing here?"

Sarah stepped into the room, her face solemn.

"I'm very sorry to intrude, Professor. I just wanted to come by and say how sorry I am to see you go. You'll be terribly missed. You were a wonderful teacher and I hope you return soon."

"That is very kind, Miss Whitlock. Thank you."

The Professor then turned to the back of the room, where Flora had just sealed the last box of textbooks.

"Flora, dear. Come. I want you to meet Miss Whitlock."

The teenager looked up, when her breath got caught in her chest. That girl looked awfully familiar.

Going over to them, Flora managed a small smile and shook her hand.

"How do you do?" Sarah said briskly.

Flora nodded politely, before taking a step back to lean against the armrest of the couch.

Glancing back at Layton, Sarah gestured towards the large stack of boxes that littered the floor.

"Can I help you carry these boxes, Professor?"

"That is quite alright," he replied. "The movers will be coming tomorrow to store them."

Her eyes narrowed briefly, before reverting back to normal.

Flora, who had been wracking her brain to recall where she had seen her, quietly gasped, suddenly realizing who the girl was.

_Oh, my God. _

Sarah clasped her hands together.

"Oh, well. In that case, I will go."

She then hastily exited, slamming the door behind her.

"Professor."

Layton pivoted to look at Flora. Her face was white.

"I know that girl."

-o-

It was almost seven o' clock when they left Gressenheller, on their way to visit Luke.

"So, how do you know her?" the Professor asked, weaving his way out of the university parking lot.

"From yesterday," Flora said in a rush. "Luke and I were coming home from school, and it starting pouring. Luke was running ahead of me and crashed into Miss Whitlock. I went to help him, and she was being very rude to him, even though he apologized."

"Poor Luke. Was he alright?" Layton asked.

"Yes, he was okay, but upset."

The Professor then rounded the corner, pulling into the Triton's driveway.

They walked to the front door, and Flora rang the doorbell.

A moment later, they were welcomed by Mr. Triton.

"Hershel, Flora, good to see you. Please, come in," he said warmly.

The two stepped into the cozy living room and Mr. Triton collected Flora's jacket.

Brenda then came in from the kitchen, her pink apron dusty with flour, and greeted them.

"Flora, dear, Luke is in his room. You may go up to see him."

"Thank you, Mrs. Triton," she said.

Leaving the adults behind, Flora raced up the steps, anxious to see him.

She knocked on his door.

"Luke, it's me. May I come in?"

"Yes," came the faint response.

Flora pushed open the door and entered.

Luke was sitting up in bed, the covers pulled up to his waist, a book open in his lap.

"Hi Luke," she said with a small smile, going over to him.

"Hi," he replied quietly, closing the book and placing it on the nightstand.

"I brought your things; you left them at my house yesterday," she said, holding his bag in one hand and his hat in the other.

"Oh. Thank you."

Flora handed him his cap and hung the satchel from the bedpost.

"So, how are you feeling?"

Luke shrugged weakly.

"I missed you today," she said, sitting at the foot the bed.

"Me too," he said, barely more than a whisper.

Flora reached across the blanket and grabbed his hand. "Luke-,"

"I wish you weren't going," he said quickly, cutting her off.

"I know. But, it won't be so bad." Her face brightened a little. "What would you like me to bring back for you?"

"Nothing," he responded sharply.

Luke drew his knees up to his to chest, wrapping his arms securely around them.

"Come on, Luke. Don't act like that. You know I have no choice."

He plopped his hat on his head.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Flora's cheeks flushed red.

"No. We are going to talk about it."

She stood up and hovered over him, hand on her right hip.

"You're not being fair, Luke," she said, her voice hushed, "you've gone on so many grand adventures with the Professor, and now it's my turn. Why can't you be happy for me?"

Ignoring her, he looked away.

Sensing that an argument was about to take place, Flora sighed and settled beside him, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Luke, I don't want to fight with you; you're my best friend."

Hearing these words, he buried his face in his hands, tears beginning to fall.

"And now you're leaving. What's going to happen to me when you're gone?" he asked, his voice breaking. "I'm not going to have anyone."

Flora hugged her friend tightly, fighting back her own tears.

"Oh, Luke," she whispered consolingly, "you'll be okay."

**I hope you all liked it! Please R&R! Thanks to my friend Mady for her help with this chapter!**


	6. Whispers in the Dark

**A/N: Sixth chapter! Whoo!**

**Thanks to Dandelion Oak for her review!**

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters. **

Outside, a gentle rain pattered softly against the windows, the soothing noise blending harmoniously with the dainty clinking of teacups.

A single candle provided the only light source, the quivering flame shedding a dim glow around the study.

The shadows of two people, a older man and a young woman, were cast eerily along the walls.

She served him a cup of tea and passed him a tray of biscuits.

"Danke," he said, choosing a treat from the platter.

Pouring herself a cup, the young woman quickly took a seat, opposite of the man.

"So, tell me, how are you?" she asked. "I imagine you must be quite busy with getting ready."

He sipped his tea calmly.

"Oh, no," he replied coolly. "I finished long ago in preparation."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Did you now? Well, then, I suspect you are all ready to leave tomorrow?"

"Ja, I am."

She grinned, the lone flame warming her delicate features. "Wonderful. Shall we review the plan then?"

He nodded.

She pushed her teacup away, and inching toward him, she dropped her voice to a whisper.

"You leave tomorrow at six o' clock in the morning and should arrive on the eighth. Settle in, and learn your surroundings. Now, when he gets there... you befriend him. Show him around, and most importantly, _you gain his trust_. Understand?"

The man nodded once more.

"Good. Don't forget, I want a full report once you get there, and if there are any new developments. Is that clear?"

"Of course," he said. His eyes glistened. "I've been waiting for this for a long time."

She patted his arm. "I know. I suppose that's it, then."

He stood up to leave and headed to the door.

Almost to the exit, he turned around.

"Excuse me, Fraulein, for saying this, but, wouldn't it be easier to finish the job as soon as he arrives?"

She looked at him, a small smirk appearing on her lips.

"It would be, but then again, who am I to deny the students of Harvard the brilliant mind of Professor Layton?"

**I hope you all liked it! Please R&R! I know it's short! :P  
><strong>


	7. Here Comes Goodbye

**A/N: Seventh chapter! Whoo!**

**Thanks to clivefangal, Onika Layton and Roma Vane for their reviews!**

**I apologize soooo much for not updating D:  
><strong>

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Here comes goodbye... Here comes the last time... Here comes the start of every sleepless night... The first of every tear I'm gonna cry... - Rascal Flatts<strong>_

* * *

><p>"<em>Luke! Help me!"<em>

_Opening his eyes, Luke looked around, disoriented. _

_Everything was dark, and he heard a faint voice calling his name._

_In the distance, a bright light began to glow, revealing the outline of a girl._

_He squinted._

"_Flora? Is that you?" he called out._

_She came into focus, tears streaming down her face._

"_Luke, please! Hurry!"_

_He started to run, faster and faster, his heart pounding loudly in his ears._

_His lungs hurt and no matter how close he got, Flora was still out of reach._

_Suddenly, Flora was lifted off the ground._

_She screamed his name again, holding out her hand._

_Luke looked up._

_Her cries for help were becoming distorted, and she was slowly fading away._

"_Flora, wait! Don't go!" _

_But it was too late. She gave one last inaudible plea, and like a feathery wisp of smoke, she vanished. _

Luke awoke with a start.

He bolted upright, breathing heavily.

"Darling?"

Luke glanced up and saw Brenda standing in the doorway, concern etched into her face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, m'fine," he said, still shaken. "Just had a bad dream."

She went over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What was it about?"

He bit his lip. "I don't really remember, but Flora was there. She was crying, and asking for help, but I-I, couldn't get to her. And then, she disappeared..." his voice trailed off

Brenda held him close and kissed his hair.

"It's okay, love; it was just a dream."

Just then, Luke heard the blast of a ferry's horn on the Thames, and his stomach turned.

"Mum... what time is it?"

"Almost eight," she replied softly.

Luke sighed. The day that he had dreaded was finally here, and in four hours, the Professor and Flora would be on a ship headed for Boston.

He swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

"I, um, have to get ready now," he said dully, freeing himself from his mother's embrace.

"Okay, darling," Brenda whispered. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

She closed the door and once he was alone, Luke sniffled and reluctantly left his warm cocoon, not looking forward to saying goodbye.

-o-

Flora, who was in her room, was making sure that everything she needed was neatly packed away.

_Clothes, shoes, dolls, books..._

Completing her mental checklist, Flora closed her suitcase, and took one final look around.

Aside from the furniture, the place was empty, and Flora couldn't help but feel sad at the thought of leaving the one place she truly called home.

_Meow._

Peering down, Flora saw Crumpet sniffing at her ankles.

She picked her up, scratching her ears.

"I'm going to miss you, Crumpet," she said, "but I know that Luke is going to take very good care of you. Just promise me that you'll behave, okay?"

The kitten blinked at her, as if she understood, and Flora giggled.

Giving her a peck on the head, she set her back on the floor and dragged her suitcase downstairs.

-o-

"Professor?"

"Yes, dear?" he answered, not taking his eyes from the paper he was reading.

"I'm ready to go."

Layton placed the sheet on the table. "Wonderful, I'm nearly ready as well. Luke should be here any minute. And then we'll be off for the train station."

Flora smiled. "Okay, I'll wait for him by the front door."

The Professor watched her bolt down the hallway before sitting down at his desk.

He opened the top drawer to store the paper, when something caught his eye.

He pushed torn envelopes, paper clips and a few broken pencils away, until he came across what he was looking for.

A photograph.

Lifting it out of the drawer, he dusted it off and smiled.

"My word."

_He guided her carefully up the slippery sidewalk, making sure she didn't trip._

_"Now, now, don't peek," he laughed, covering her eyes with his hands.  
><em>

_"I'm not, I promise," she giggled.  
><em>

_He led her forward a few more feet, before stopping.  
><em>

_"Okay, ready? One, two...," he lifted his hands away. "Three."  
><em>

_She gasped, resting her hand over her collarbone.  
><em>

_"Hershel...," she breathed, "wha- you bought a house?"  
><em>

_He brushed a saffron curl from her cheek, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  
><em>

_"I bought a house for _us_, Ms. Foley," he clarified.  
><em>

_Her eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a small O, but no sound came out.  
><em>

_"What do you think?" he asked, slightly amused by her expression.  
><em>

_"It's beautiful, darling," she said finally, a look of amazement still on her face.  
><em>

_He moved around to face her.  
><em>

_"I can't wait for us to start our lives together," he smiled, running his thumb over the silver band that was fixed on her left hand.  
><em>

_"Only four months," she whispered, putting her arms around his neck, pulling him close.  
><em>

_He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "I love you, Claire."_

Tracing his finger along the worn edge, Layton delicately turned the yellowing photograph over in his hand.

He examined the fragile article carefully, noting the many imperfections that had been brought about by being inadvertently left in a drawer for so long.

The professor then noticed a scribble of faded black ink in the top right corner of the picture.

**_6/12/27_**

Hit with a sudden, sharp pang of sadness, he quickly flipped the photo over again.

Claire was smiling up at him as she stood in front of the two-story Tudor-style home, her eyes glittering with happiness.

The Professor's heart ached as he thought back to that clear and chilly December day.

Everything had been so perfect; how could his world have changed so significantly in such a short time?

As he slipped the photo into his pocket, he heard approaching footsteps from the hallway, followed by Flora's voice.

"Professor, the taxi's here."

-o-_  
><em>

The ride to the train station was quiet.

Luke, to distract himself from the reality of the day, kept his attention on the outside surroundings.

The busy streets seemed like one big blur as the cab made the short trip from Carlisle Lane to Victoria Station.

Recognizing the street signs as they passed, a sick sort-of nervousness began to creep up Luke's spine as they neared the destination.

Within a few minutes, the taxi made its last left turn down Wilton Road. They were almost there.

-o-

The trio arrived at Victoria Station and were met with the busiest crowd that Luke had ever seen.

They went inside and the Professor quickly joined the queue for tickets.

The line moved fast, and he was soon at the front.

"Two tickets to Portsmouth, please," he said.

"Platform One," the clerk replied, handing over the stubs.

"Thank you," Layton said.

He then headed toward the tracks; Luke and Flora following suit.

As they made their way outside, they found that the train was already waiting.

Throngs of people crowded the platform; boarding, saying goodbye, porters loading suitcases and conductors collecting tickets.

Luke, slightly claustrophobic, coupled with his mounting anxiety, felt his head begin to spin. He steadied himself and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

The train whistle sounded, indicating five minutes until departure.

"I guess this is goodbye," Luke said quietly, his words shaky.

"Oh, no, my boy, this is so long, not goodbye," Layton said. He then produced the small leather notebook from his pocket and handed it to his apprentice. "This is for you, Luke."

Luke sniffled, and ran his hand over the smooth cover. "Thank you, Professor."

Flora, who had stood silently the majority of the time, let out a strangled sob.

She reached out, and drew Luke into a tight hug.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Luke," she whispered into his ear.

Luke swallowed hard, words getting caught in his throat.

She then pulled away, a sad smile on her face. "But I'll be back."

The whistle blew again, and this time, the conductor appeared, hanging halfway off the train.

"Last call for Portsmouth!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the crowd.

The Professor adjusted his hat and turned to Flora. "We must go now, darling."

Flora nodded and glanced at Luke. She took his hand, and with damp eyes, leaned forward and put a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He momentarily froze, his face suddenly tinged with pink.

"Bye, Luke."

She and the Professor then headed for the train. They climbed the steps and the doors slid closed behind them.

Luke watched as they navigated through the compartment and took their seats by the window.

Flora looked out and pressed her nose to the glass, her gaze fixed on Luke.

He lifted his hand and waved goodbye, forcing a smile.

Around him, the platform was buzzing with activity, but he didn't seem to take notice. He was in his own world, and everything else was drowned out.

The engine started up and puffs of white smoke billowed from the chimney, accompanied by a final whistle.

After a moment, the train finally chugged away and despite being surrounded by dozens of people, Luke had never felt so alone.

**A/N: I hope you all liked it! Please R&R! **

**I was inspired by the end bit of UF when Luke left.. haha  
><strong>

**P.S. I also do not own 'Here Comes Goodbye'. All rights go to Rascal Flatts. If you haven't heard the song though, I highly recommend it. It's brilliant and so sad.  
><strong>


	8. See You Again

**A/N: Eighth chapter! Whoo!**

**Thanks to AnimegirlTohru for her review!  
><strong>

**I do not own any Professor Layton characters**

Luke flopped down onto his bed, irritated.

It was a picturesque Sunday morning and Luke was in his room, having some sort of showdown with an inanimate object.

"Bloody jacket," he hissed, shooting daggers at the heap of gray fabric that lay abandoned by the footboard.

He sat up and giving it one last try, pulled the jacket on.

Squirming into it, he fidgeted uncomfortably.

The tweed material was incredibly itchy and the collar suffocatingly hot.

"Luke! Where are you? We're going to be late for church!" his mother called from downstairs.

He yanked hard on the sleeves to try and stretch them out, and pulled on the hemline, but nothing worked.

Accepting defeat, Luke left his room and trudged down the steps.

"Muuum!" he whined, making his way into the parlor. "This is too small for me!"

Brenda sighed as she slipped on her silk white gloves.

"Luke, we just bought you that jacket for your birthday," she said, smoothing out the wrinkles in his sweater.

"Yes, but that was seven months ago," he replied. "I've grown quite a lot since then."

"Well," she smiled, buttoning his coat, "I guess the only solution would be for you to stop growing, yes?"

He gave his mother a half-smile and pulled on his shoes.

"Now, hurry along," she said, patting his back with her clutch purse. "Dad's waiting."

-o-

In the backseat of the family car, Luke stared out of the window, taking in the scenery.

Trees were cloaked in a myriad of vibrant colors; ruby red, pumpkin orange, golden yellow and many more rich shades of autumn.

Luke rolled the window down a few inches and closed his eyes, allowing the cool, crisp breeze to caress his face.

Relaxed, he found his thoughts drifting to Flora and the Professor. It had been four days since they had gone, and he couldn't help but wish that they were in London, sharing in this beautiful day with him.

-o-

The Tritons arrived at Westminster Cathedral right on time.

Up in the belfry, the bell-Edward-as it was so named, chimed loud and clear, notifying the surrounding area about eleven o'clock mass.

Luke followed his parents into the church and was surprised to see that most of the seats were already filled. His mother then reminded him that it was a special service to pray for those affected by the Depression.

Before he sat down, Luke looked around and immediately recognized some of his friends from City of London.

He gave them a quick wave and settled in between his parents.

The cathedral hummed with quiet chatter, and after a few minutes, the organ began playing, signaling the start of the service.

The choir opened the mass with a morning psalm, and Luke joined in with everyone, singing from his hymn book.

Following the aria, there were two readings, the Gospel and then the sermon.

Father Mason, a short, plump man with a good sense of humor and a kind heart, presided over the mass and was one of the main reasons why Luke looked forward to Sundays.

His method to delivering the message of God was simple; a direct approach with the special ability to seamlessly combine powerful preaching with topics relevant to current events in the community.

The congregation listened intently as he spoke, his voice echoing throughout the cathedral.

The homily concluded shortly thereafter, and the priest began preparing the altar for Communion.

Lifting the chalice in the air; the Eucharist held over the cup, Father Mason recited the _Agnus Dei_, and the parishioners left their pews row by row to receive Communion.

-o-

Luke returned to his pew; his hands clasped together and knelt on the thin padded kneeler in front of his seat.

Eyes closed, he murmured a short prayer for Flora and the Professor's safe arrival to Boston.

He opened his eyes and sighed sadly, taking his seat on the polished wooden bench beside his mother. He thought of the Professor and Flora, and how he hoped that their journey across the Atlantic was going smoothly.

Looking around, he watched as the rest of the churchgoers made their way back from the altar.

James and William passed by his pew trailing their parents and flashed Luke a brief smile before disappearing up the aisle.

An elderly couple came next, followed by a woman holding a baby.

Growing restless, Luke idly rapped his fingers against his leg, searching for any sort of distraction to pass the time until Mass was finished.

His gaze wandered back to the altar where the last few people were walking back to their seats.

As they neared his pew, he squinted as one person in particular caught his eye.

She was quite young and her lustrous golden hair was set in neat curls atop her head.

Luke studied the girl carefully as she got closer, trying his best to place her. It was difficult though; her head was bowed, so he couldn't get a clear view of her face.

Approaching Luke's pew, she glanced up, and Luke's heart stopped.

She brushed past him, and he shivered.

He'd seen those chilling blue eyes before.

**A/N: I hope you all liked it! Please R&R!**


End file.
